


Wolfsbabe Bullet

by Besin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shower Sex, Underage Sex, bottom!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Besin/pseuds/Besin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When new hunters come to town, Derek finds himself on the receiving end of multiple raids. But there's something strange about the bullets they're using -- it's not the usual strain of wolfsbane, it seems. And it has some... odd effects. In an attempt to find out which strain it is, he goes to Stiles' house, only for the first symptom to take effect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolfsbabe Bullet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holycon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holycon/gifts).



> It's all Holycon and her autocorrect's fault. We were chatting about Teen Wolf, “wolfs babe” happened, and then I had a summary INSTANTLY and... here we are now.

When the new hunters had arrived in town, Derek hadn't expected to have to put up with their shit right off the bat. He thought it would take them at least two weeks to figure out where the local pack had holed up, and then they would realize the pack literally didn't do anything and leave. Something he hadn't counted on was a group of hunters that didn't follow the code.

And to find them in his living room.

And get shot.

Multiple times.

 _In his living room_.

It hadn't taken long to dispatch the hunters. They were young, and not properly trained going by how many of them couldn't hit something that was nailed to the floor. Trigger shy, the lot of them. He'd call them wet behind the ears, but going by their aim they hadn't known to wash in the first place. So when everything was said and done Derek made his way to Scott's house. Melissa would pull the bullets out for him without question, even if Raphael would give him odd looks.

Except Melissa wasn't there.

And neither was Scott.

The next stop was Chris Argent's.

The man was apparently out of town on a business meeting.

As a last resort, he made his way to the Sheriff's house. Derek allowed himself to hope the man wasn't on patrol, and that he'd be able to get the bullets out without too much talking involved.

Much to Derek's displeasure, he had just left for an overnight shift and the first words out of Stiles' mouth were, “Can't Deaton help you with this?”

The werewolf had stared him down for a long moment when they first arrived in his hands, not quite trusting Stiles with the small tweezers clutched between his fingers. They had moved the party into Stiles' bathroom.

“I don't trust him,” Derek ground out, seemingly sweating with the effort of speaking. “Besides, he's at a witch convention.” He took a sharp breath before blowing it shakily out his nose, which whistled lightly. “In Denver.”

“Oh. Well that's, uh. Yeah.” He frowned, pulling out the last of the bullets. “Hey, these are filled with wolfsbane, right? Shouldn't you be, like, _dead_ by now or something?” He set the tweezers down, swallowing heavily and turning away from the mess.

“I think they're using a different type of wolfsbane. They didn't act like seasoned hunters. There's a good chance they haven't learned the varying effects of species.”

“Varying effects? Like what could this one do?”

“It depends. One type can make us blind, another could send us on a killing spree. There's also the kind that acts something like extensive mercury poisoning.”

Stiles grinned. “So, technically speaking, I could turn you into the Mad Hatter.”

Derek glared.

“Right. Dropping that line of thought.”

“You better.”

Stiles sighed. “So, we need to figure out what kind this is, right? Would it be in the Argent's bestiary or something? Like, and extension for plants?”

Derek nodded slowly. “May...” He trailed off. Without warning, the man jumped in the shower and slid the curtain closed before the shower turned on.

The boy frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I just – I know what kind it is. I need a moment. I'll be fine, soon.”

“Are you sure you'll-”

“Leave me alone, Stiles,” Derek demanded, voice echoing off the tile. “The effects will wear off soon.”

Stiles groaned. “First off, dude, it's _my bathroom_. Secondly, you're not even – I can't help you with getting over whatever is going on if you don't tell me what the symptoms are.”

There was a heavy inhale, then the shifting of wet clothes. “Just give me ten minutes, okay?”

The boy gaped, but raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, I'll let you shower in peace. Just don't use all the hot water, okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. Just get out.”

“Jesus Christ, I'm going.” Stepped away from the shower curtain, Stiles stumbled out the door and into his room, only to pause at the zip of a zipper. Then again, at the slow slapping of water. He frowned, stepped back over to the bathroom door. “Are you _masturbating_ in my _shower_?” the boy demanded quietly, disbelief saturating his tone.

The sounds stopped.

Stiles gagged. “Dude, gross! The last thing I want is werewolf splooge all over, okay? What if Scott has to use my bathroom and smells it? What if _I_ smell it? What if it's _freaking radioactive_ or something? Just – don't jerk off in my shower, okay? Just stop. Stop right now.”

“I need to get this out of my system,” Derek insisted. “Or it will _burn_ me from the inside out.”

The teen frowned. “Jesus Christ – was it like an aphrodisiac or something?”

“No,” the man hissed. “It's more like... a stimulant. It doesn't get us riled up; it only increases blood flow to certain areas of the body. It's easiest to reduce the poison to blood count by the expulsion of body fluids.”

Stiles made a face. “So it's werewolf Viagra?”

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek drawled angrily. “It's werewolf Viagra.”

The boy laughed. “You know, I've always been curious what giving a blowjob feels like.”

Derek choked. “ _What_?”

“Just so you know, it's on the table.”

Stiles made to leave the room, but suddenly the shower curtain was thrown aside and a very, very reluctant Derek stood there, sopping wet, with the purplest boner the boy had ever seen.

“We should have a safe word,” Derek suggested quietly. “Just in case.”

Taken aback, Stiles big back a laugh and nodded, curiosity getting the best of him. “Sure. Yeah. Mine'll be...” He cleared his throat, eyes landing on the bright pattern across the shower curtain. “Mine will be 'pineapple.' You?”

The werewolf glanced to his side, eyes lighting on the sink. “Dish soap.”

“Then let's get this party started.” Stiles tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one go before working at his pants. Those were shucked off – along with his socks – before he joined Derek in the shower in nothing but his boxer shorts.

Derek, who'd removed his own clothes, shifted carefully from foot to foot as Stiles settled onto his knees. “Remember your safe word.”

“Yeah, pineapple. And yours is dish soap,” the boy repeated easily before leaning forward. Instead of going for any kind of foreplay he just wrapped his mouth around the tip of Derek's dick and _sucked_.

Derek gasped, hands shooting out to grab at the sides of the shower as his knees went weak. “Gah,” he whined, teeth coming down hard on his lip as he clenched his eyes shut. “F... _fuck_.”

Adjusting his knees against the slip guard, Stiles glanced up at his charge beneath eyelids half-shuttered against the spray. He watched the werewolf's expression carefully, gauging for reactions as he ran his fingers under the man's low-hanging balls, massaging them lightly. This earned a series of rabbitty, uncontrolled thrusts from Derek before the man could restrain himself. The boy dragged his mouth away, sliding down and off the werewolf's cock with a wet, obscene pop. “You want me to do that again?” he asked,

“Shit, don't talk to me right now,” Derek groaned, expression breaking into despair. “This doesn't need to take any longer than it should.”

“Okay, that was mean even for you,” the boy snapped. “And if I'm gonna get you off you need to tell me how.”

The man hissed, hand coming up to cover his face. “Fine,” he consented. “Fine, whatever. Just try not to talk too much. And... That. Do it again, okay?”

“Okie dokie!”

Derek groaned as Stiles leaned forward, took the very tip of his dick into his mouth, pulled the foreskin back with his right hand, and reached forward to massage his testicles with the left. “This has got to be a new low for me,” he mumbled piteously to himself.

Stiles laughed around his penis.

“Don't you-” Derek began, only to cut off as the boy tightened his lips around the head and sucked him like a malted milkshake. For a long moment the werewolf considered the possibility that he had actually died during the attack and had been sent to a sick, twisted level of Hell.

The boy on his knees pulled away long enough to shake a little water from his face before diving right back down. Swirling his tongue around the head of the older man's cock, he slowly lowered his mouth as far as he could along the shaft before he gagged. Stiles withdrew with a grimace. Then, much to Derek's surprise, the face dropped. New determination took its place as he clamped his lips down, flattened his tongue against the vein on the underside, and _sucked_. As he did this his left hand wandered back just enough to trace the pucker of the man's ass.

Derek's knees gave out.

As the man collapsed against the curve of the tub, Stiles pulled away and jerked the man idly with a grin. “Need any help there, Der?”

“You're going to kill me,” the man whined, voice breaking in its attempt to work past his throat. He swallowed heavily. “Are you _trying_ to kill me?”

“Nope.”

“Please don't try.”

“No promises, bitch.” He'd added the last bit as a sassy joke, mouth open in an ironic grin and head jerking to the side at the end. Neither of them expected the subsequent throb in the older man's groin, or the catch of breath in his throat. Stiles laughed as the man froze. “And _you_ told me not to talk.”

“Shut up.”

“You sure?” the boy asked, leaning forward with a grin. “You _really_ sure you want me to be quiet?”

“Shut _up_.”

“I don't know if I should,” Stiles continued to tease, voice wavering slightly. His usual bravado was the only thing that kept his hands from shaking. But Stiles could just _taste_ the blackmail. “Are you really sure you don't want me to call you my naughty boy, or that you've been bad, or that you should take it like the man you're clear- _ly_ -” Hands that had been nowhere near his head suddenly gripped the boy's hair tight, drawing his head forward and cutting him off in preference of shoving his mouth at the exposed dick not three inches away. His eyebrows drew together testily, but the boy complied. Fastening his lips over the seam of the older man's cock, tongue laving the incredibly soft skin to clear away what precum had oozed from the slit, Stiles hollowed his cheeks experimentally.

Derek rolled his hips with a wanton groan. Before long the boy's fingers were back at the seam of his ass, teasing the pink pucker of his anus before pressing carefully inwards. By the time the man knew what was going on, Stiles had pulled away and was trailing his lips along the werewolf's body. Before long they were flush up against each other. Stiles pressed their bodies together with grim satisfaction, finger buried deep within Derek while his other hand jerked the werewolf's length ruthlessly.

“You're such an asshole when I tease you about it,” Stiles whispered hotly against the cup of werewolf's ear, teeth coming out to nibble the lobe before retreating into a satisfied, concentrated grimace. “But your _asshole_ is saying something else entirely. Accepting me so _willingly_ like this – it's strange, isn't it? Like you were made to be a _slut_ for my fingers.”

Derek's breath, which had been coming out in desperate pants for a while, stopped completely as the man went still. After a short while his chest depressed as he wheezed, “Dish soap.”

Stiles blinked. “Dish so- _oh._ ” The boy pulled away, getting a good look at Derek's face. His face was bright red. He looked all kinds of mortified, too, and while it would usually give the teen a twisted sort of glee to see it, that was not the time. “Sorry. I'll, uh... Yeah.” He pulled away, biting his lip awkwardly.

“Thanks,” the man breathed, voice clipped.

“Was it, uh...” Stiles glanced down to the man's erection, which hadn't flagged one bit in the entire exchange. “Was it my finger or-”

“Just try not to talk,” Derek suggested. “It's pushing my boundaries, situation notwithstanding.”

The boy frowned. “Situation?” he asked incredulously. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Shaking his head wearily, the werewolf didn't bother to meet the teen's eyes as he announced just loud enough to be heard over the spray of the water, “We shouldn't be making any more of this than it actually is. You don't need to know anything about what gets me off other than the bare minimum. The same goes for me to you.”

“Oh,” the boy mumbled, pulling away a bit with a sheepish grin. “Right. Sorry. Got carried away there for a bit.”

Derek didn't want to admit how much that hurt. “Do you think this is a _game_?” he hissed.

Stiles snorted. “Well yeah,” he deadpanned. “Dude, I'm not _gay_. How else am I supposed to think of this?”

And wow, Derek knew he had that coming. Coming like he did when Stiles twisted his fingers in Derek's ass without warning and _abused_ his insides. And Derek came. Derek came like the slut he was, gasping and jerking and crying like he thought it would never happen. Then Stiles was cleaning them up and the older man just felt _empty_. Oh, how he felt empty.

…

Three days later, Derek found himself where he'd been since he'd left Stiles' bathroom; his loft. Alone. He gasped, hand working his length at a fevered pace as he traced the seam of his ass with a finger. Round and round his head, Stiles' words swam.

_You're such an asshole when you tease me about it._

If he thought about it really hard, it sounded like Stiles was really there.

_But your asshole is saying something else entirely._

If Derek only had a recording...

_Accepting me so willingly like this – it's strange, isn't it?_

The memory alone was almost enough to get him off. Derek had a feeling anything better could ruin him.

_Like you were made to be a slut for my fingers._

His orgasm ripped through him at the memory, far too quick to be satisfactory. The usual haphazard concoction of endorphins and adrenaline was nowhere to be felt; the absent afterglow taking root in his stomach like a lead tree. He felt dirty. Empty. _Used_. It didn't even feel like he'd just masturbated. It felt like he had been spending the last five minutes giving unprotected head in a dark alley; nothing to show for it but vague promises and a fake number.

Except he actually had Stiles' number. He'd had it for years, and that was definitely worse. Worse because Stiles wasn't interested. Worse because Stiles was a guy. Worse because Stiles was _sixteen_ and that was all kinds of illegal.

Derek didn't know how he was ever going to look the boy in the eye again.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://besieged-infection.tumblr.com).


End file.
